


If The Fates Allow

by gimmealltheships



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All I Want For Christmas Is Love Actually, Christmas AU, Firefighter!Lourriall, Fluff, It's sad until it's not, M/M, Smut, Some Larry if you squint, Some angst, This makes no sense oh my god, art student!zayn, firefighter!Liam, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmealltheships/pseuds/gimmealltheships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Liam and Zayn can't be together during Christmas because of reasons. Or can they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If The Fates Allow

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so this is my first fic. The first one I'm putting on here, anyway. I'd like to thank Giselle (keepcalmandreadfic on Tumblr) for coming up with this awesome idea. Thanks for taking time to read this garbage, and I hope you enjoy it. Comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Title taken from "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas". Might I suggest listening to Sam Smith's cover? I totally didn't write this to his version on repeat. I didn't.
> 
> Please, please, please read the warnings in the notes at the bottom before going on.
> 
> (BTDUBBS, I beta'd this myself, so please, please let me know about any errors you find. Thanks!!)

"How are your classes?" Liam asks, fingers playing with the fringe on one of the couch pillows.

Zayn mumbles something quietly on the other end of the phone, and the sound of metal on metal vibrates down the line. Liam smiles. "Working on a piece, babe?"

"Hmm? How'd you know?" asks Zayn.

Liam can see him in his mind's eye: a soft, worn shirt and loose sweats, bottom lip firmly between his teeth, most likely unshaven with his hair unkempt and messy. Every Zayn is Liam's favorite, but soft-warm-intense-artist Zayn is probably the one he favors above all. That and sleepy-after-sex Zayn. He hears an inhale and a long exhale and replaces the bottom lip he's picturing with a cigarette.

"You get quiet. Really focused," he says. "Like you're thinking so hard your thoughts block out the rest of the world."

"Couldn't block you out if I tried," says Zayn. "Wish you could see the Eiffel Tower, Li. You'd love it all lit up at night."

Liam chuckles and says, "Nah, babe. Nothing compares to your beautiful face." Zayn scoffs at him, but Liam's willing to bet his rent money there's a blush staining his cheeks a sweet red.

"What're you working on? A project?"

"Nah, it's a gift."

"Oh? For who?" asks Liam mildly.

"Some lad I fancy. He's quite amazing."

Liam hums, tilting his head to rest against the back of the couch. "Whatever you're making, I'm sure he'll love it. He'd better, if he's as good as you say."

Zayn laughs. "The absolute best."

Liam bites his tongue against the question he wants to ask, choking his words down until they burn in his throat. Some sort of noise must escape him, because all activity on Zayn's side ceases until there's just the two of them in silence, drinking in the seconds that pass by. Liam stares out the picture window, watching the snow drift by lazily.

The lights from his Christmas tree reflect off the glass, dotting the buildings outside with blots of reds and blues and greens and oranges. The ornaments hanging from the branches are a mix of stuff he's bought from the store and things his parents sent him when he'd first moved out.

Liam's favorite feature is the porcelain angel at the very top. His head is thrown back and his arms are outstretched, bronze-gold wings tucked against his back. The face is perfectly detailed, down to the individual eyelashes and the benevolent tilt of his smile. If someone were to look well enough, they'd see the resemblance between the angel and Liam, down to the matching birthmark on the angel's neck.

That had been Zayn's intent when he'd made it, after all. Back during fall break, when the two of them were still trying to figure out what they'd become at Louis and Harry's wedding (it used to boggle Liam's mind, that they'd gotten married so early in their lives. But looking at Zayn, Liam could understand why. That and they were the souliest soulmates he'd ever seen). Liam had met Zayn at the airport to send him off, back to that fancy art university he was going to in Paris. The tears had sat heavily in his eyes before finding their way down his face. Zayn had brushed them away and pressed the angel into Liam's hand.

He'd swallowed his words that day too, had simply kissed Zayn with all the sweetness and affection he had tumbling in his stomach. They talked on the phone almost every day, save for when Zayn was a little too tired from school and Liam's shifts at the firehouse started wearing him down. They had yet to put a name on their relationship, something Liam thought about often. Because he was Zayn's friend and Zayn was his friend and they kissed and had sex sometimes, and he wasn't sure he knew what they could call themselves.

"What's the matter, Liam?" asks Zayn

Liam scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand and pushes the scalding words from his throat. "So, um, your Christmas break starts in a few days, yeah?"

"Yeah, starts on Christmas Eve," says Zayn. "Why d'you ask, babe?" Liam worries the pillow's fringe some more, remaining silent until Zayn sighs heavily. "Liam, talk to me."

"It's nothing, just a silly question," huffs Liam. "I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to spend the break here. In London. With me." Now it's Zayn who's silent. He's quiet for so long that Liam has to check the phone hasn't disconnected. His throat is burning again when he says, "Okay, never mind, yeah? Just forget I said anything, it was so stupid of m-"

"I'dlovetoliam," Zayn rushes out, so fast it turns into garbled nonsense in Liam's ear.

"Say that again?" he asks.

"I said I'd love to, Liam," says Zayn, and there's something in his voice, an emotion he can't make sense of, that makes Liam's breath catch. And then the other shoe drops. "But I can't."

The tiny, lint-sized ember of joy that glowed in Liam's chest is drowned in a flood of  _I told you so_  and  _Of course he wouldn't want to spend his Christmas with **you**_  and  _Shouldn't have gotten your hopes up so high, Payne_. "Oh," he says in a small voice. "Okay."

"Liam, it's not like th-"

"It's fine, mate, it's totally fine, I get it," Liam interrupts him. "You have other things to do, Zayn, I understand. I'm not mad, babe, I promise."

 _No, not mad_ , a treacherous voice whispers at the back of his mind.  _Just a little crushed, a little bruised on the inside. Just a little broken, but it's nothing new, is it?_

" _Liam_ ," Zayn growls, his frustration bleeding over the line. "Liam, _jaan_ , you're not  _listening_."

He pauses in his inner berating and says, "What's there to say?"

"I can't be with you for Christmas because the airport is snowed in," explains Zayn, enunciating every word. "They just sent out a notice this morning, there won't be any flights until probably after Christmas, maybe even after the break is finished. There's supposed to be a storm on it's way, they don't wanna risk sending any planes out in that kind of weather."

Liam struggles not to let the relief make him boneless. "Yeah, babe. Like I said, I totally understand."

"You know I want to be with you, Liam. You know I do," insists Zayn quietly. "More than anything."

"I know, Zee. It's just, I miss you loads," says Liam with a weak chuckle. "I sound daft, don't I."

"Not at all. I miss you too."

Instead of thrusting his beating heart through the phone and into Zayn's hands like he wants to, Liam glances over at the clock. "It's almost two in the morning, babe. You should get some rest."

"I'm only one hour ahead, Li, and if anyone should be getting some sleep, it's you," says Zayn. "You're the fireman, remember?"

"Education takes a lot out of you," Liam scolds. He smiles to himself as he thinks of Zayn slouched down in his chair, scribbling abstract drawings of his professors in the margins of his notes. "I'll take to you later, Zayn."

"Talk to you later, Li," says Zayn with a sleepy yawn. There's an unspoken 'I love you' that hangs between them like clouds of breath on a cold winter morning. "Bye, babe."

"G'night, Zayn," says Liam.

He hits the end button first, because Liam's learned if he doesn't Zayn will simply stay on the line and listen to him breathe.

Liam stands up and checks his apartment over. He makes sure the doors are locked, closes the curtains a little tighter, washes what little dishes he left in the sink from dinner. He walks into his bedroom and plugs his phone in, setting it very carefully on his nightstand. Stripping off his clothes and tossing them in the hamper, he pulls on his sleeping clothes. After he gets dressed, he slides into bed and pulls the thick comforter around his body tightly.

Only then does Liam let himself cry.

 

*****

 

The next few days pass quietly enough. Liam loves the Christmas season, loves walking down the street and hearing carolers singing their hearts out for random passersby. He makes a point to give several bills to every Santa he passes ringing bells for this charity or that charity. There's one stationed just outside his firehouse, and he makes sure to invite the man, Paul, in from the cold as often as he can.

Soon, underneath his tree becomes stuffed full of gifts in the days before Christmas, presents from his friends at the firehouse and his parents, some expensive looking stuff Nicola mailed him from Rome and things Ruth sent over from New York. He can tell which ones belong to his boys: Niall's is wrapped in paper that has little mugs of frothy beer printed on it, Harry's looks like the Christmas section in Macy's vomited all over it, and Louis's is wrapped so haphazardly Liam can almost see what Louis got for him (it's a new hoodie).

Liam has a small stack of presents (yes, Louis, ten presents aren't that much) sitting at the foot of his bed, all of them addressed to Zayn. He's still deciding if he should mail them out or wait for Zayn to come home, even though by then it'll probably be January. He'd put a lot of thought into his gifts for Zayn, which included a new set of charcoals, brand new oil paints, and a voucher for ten new paint easels at some fancy shop in Paris that's close to Zayn's apartment.

Soon, Christmas Eve is upon Liam with a vengeance. There's a brunch of sorts going on at the firehouse, so Liam dresses in a red button up and jeans, grabs his gifts off the counter, and heads out into the cold.

The firehouse looks ridiculously festive, a beacon of red and green with blinking white lights everywhere and an inflatable Santa on the roof. He parks in his stall and rushes inside out of the cold, almost bowling Leigh-Ann over as she passes by. "Oi, watch it, Payne!" she barks, but gives him a kiss on the cheek and a quick  _Merry Christmas, Liam_  in his ear.

There's some kind of country Christmas song playing in the background (he thinks it might be something by Rascal Flatts, but he could be wrong) as he makes his way around the room to tell everyone hello. He deposits his Secret Santa gift onto a table overflowing with other presents before making his way over to the boys. Niall's drinking from a red cup of what Liam hopes is juice, watching Harry and Louis flick the fake snowflake decorations on the tables at each other.

"Happy birthday, Lou," says Liam, ruffling Louis's hair. He dodges the elbow that gets thrown his way and laughs at Louis's offended yelp.

"Thank you, Liam," says Louis with a loud sniff. "The hair messing was unnecessary."

Liam kisses his shaggy head with a smile and slides his present into his lap (it's a fifty dollar gift card to the sex shop he and Harry frequent) before hugging Harry and Niall.

As he sits beside Niall, Liam catches sight of a dark hickey peeking above Louis's shirt collar. "Celebrated your birthday a bit early, did you, Tommo?"

Louis blushes darkly while Harry hides his grin in Louis's shoulder. "Oi, bugger off, Payne." Liam just laughs and steals a bit of grilled zucchini off Harry's plate.

"Make some food, mate, there's loads," says Niall as he proceeds to devour half the fish and chips on his plate. Chuckling, Liam stands and makes his way over to the buffet.

"Just try it, Pez, it doesn't look that bad!" complains Jade. She's trying to feed Perrie a burnt looking pumpkin concoction.

"It's burnt to hell and smells like rotten jack o' lantern, Jade, 'm not putting it in my mouth," says Perrie firmly. They both flash Liam smiles as he passes them.

"OI! YOU LOT!" Jesy roars. She sets down her plate as Louis and Harry freeze and look up fearfully. "I WORKED MY ASS OFF ON THOSE DECORATIONS, STOP RUINING THEM!"

Liam skirts around Jesy as she goes charging off and starts filling a plate when there's a presence beside him. "Mr. Payne," says Fire Chief Cowell. "Merry Christmas. Everything going well?"

"Happy holidays to you too, sir," says Liam. "I'm doing alright."

"How's that boy of yours? Zayn?"

Liam can't help the grin that flits across his face. "He's doing well, sir. Really enjoying his studies in France."

"Coming home for the holidays, I expect?"

"No, sir, he can't," says Liam. "There's a snow storm expected to hit Paris either today or tomorrow, and they're not letting any planes fly out."

Chief Cowell hums and gives Liam a gentle, almost sympathetic look. He opens his mouth to respond, eyes kind of soft and a little tender.

Then the alarm goes off overhead.

 

*****

 

There's been a car accident on the M1 that results in a ten car pile up. It takes them several hours to get everyone to safety and clear the road so it can be reopened. In the end, the only things showing there'd been an accident were the oil and blood stains on the pavement and the shine of broken glass. Liam makes sure all the women and men of his firehouse are back in the trucks before driving off. Everyone walks in and strips down in silence, putting their gear away as quickly as possible.

Liam's just gotten out of the showers when he finds Niall sitting on a bench in the corner of the locker room, knuckles white as they grip his thighs.

"Niall," Liam says, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tilts Niall's head back and sees the blatant terror in his eyes. "Breathe, yeah? Watch me, Ni, breathe with me."

Liam's never talked anyone through a panic attack besides himself, so it's a little stilted in the beginning, but he manages to get Niall a little ways back to normal. "What happened, mate?" he asks quietly, rubbing a hand between Niall's shoulder blades.

"Little girl," Niall gasps after a few seconds of silence. He smears the tears off his face with the back of his hand. "She was barely a year old. Another car rammed straight into back seat and something must have flown towards her, because she was all c-cut up around the face and neck." Niall's breath hitches. "God, there was so much blood. I handed her off to an EMT and as soon as we got back I lost it. I'm sorry, Li."

Liam shushes him and pulls the boy into a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Nothing to apologize for. It happens to everybody, Niall." Liam pulls back and examines the small cuts Niall's sporting on one cheek. "Your first accident?"

Niall nods and sits back down. "Never had anything like this happen. At least, not where my house responded." He looks at Liam intently. "Didn't you and Louis and Harry have a call like this? When you first started?"

Liam sits beside him, his own hands flat on his legs. "It was right after we graduated from the academy. Our very first call, in fact."

"What happened?" Niall asks curiously.

"There was a fairly large accident on the M11, maybe seven cars, and it was pretty bad," says Liam. "There was a man riding his bike along the side of the road, and he wasn't wearing reflective gear. It was around the winter time too, so the snow made it hard to see. By the time the driver saw the biker, it was too late. The other cars couldn't stop in time, and they ended up ramming the first car."

"How many dead?" asks Niall.

"The biker, a woman and her husband, and a ten-year-old," says Liam bitterly. He smiles slightly, though, when another memory presses itself into his mind. "Did I ever tell you how I met Zayn?" Niall shakes his head.

"The firetruck pulls up, right? And we're unloading as fast as we can because we can see the gas starting to leak out of a few cars and the last thing anyone wants is a gas fire. As I'm coming off the truck, I see movement. And as I get closer, I realize this lad has pulled himself out of his car and is trying to help other people get out as well," says Liam. "Only thing is, he's got a broken arm and a piece of metal sticking out of his thigh, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's just hell bent on taking care of everyone else."

"That was Zayn?"

"That was Zayn. He fell into my arms, quite literally, when the blood loss got to him."

"That was two years ago, Li."

"And?" Liam asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you only got together at the wedding, and that was like four months ago," says Niall. Liam shrugs. "Took you two that long to get your shit together?"

"We're not talking about that, Niall. What I didn't get around to saying was that after we got back and we got cleaned up, I locked myself in a bathroom stall and threw up what felt like a week's worth of dinner. Harry had to carry Louis out of the locker room, he was that much in shock," Liam says. "It happens to everyone, mate. If death doesn't affect you, if blood and pain don't make you feel a little bit of something, you aren't human."

Niall nods and sniffles a little, wiping away some snot. "Thanks, Liam. For being here."

"No problem, bro," says Liam. He claps a hand to Niall's shoulder and stands. "What say we get out there and eat whatever's left?"

Niall grins, impossibly wide, and nods, bouncing up. He's out of the locker room before Liam, which means he doesn't see Liam's face fall slightly before he pulls himself back together again.

 

*****

 

By the time Liam gets home it's late, about eleven thirty. He's gotten a bunch of Christmas texts from people, including one from Zayn that reads  _Merry almost Christmas, babe xx Zayn_. Liam had smiled at that, despite the tears that had started falling again, and texted Zayn back something similar.

He's changed into a pair of Zayn's sweats and a t-shirt (sue him, alright, he's mildly drunk and terribly sad and he just really misses Zayn) when there are three rapid knocks at his door. He's so ready to get in bed, feeling warm and fuzzy and sleepy, and Liam seriously considers just letting it go when the knocks come again, louder.

Liam grumbles, "I'm coming, I'm coming," and pads down the hallway. He opens the door, irritation making him slam it open little harder than necessary, and freezes.

Zayn's standing there in his doorway.

He's wearing jeans and a thick jumper Liam recognizes as his own, head tucked into a beanie with Liam's plaid scarf woven around his neck. He's also shaking terribly and dripping wet. There's a beat up black suitcase sitting next to him in the hall and Liam's pretty sure there's water leaking from his shoes. Liam stands speechless for a second, two seconds, five, before he shakes off his shock and yanks Zayn and his luggage into his apartment.

"Christ, Zee, you're freezing!" he scolds. Liam strips off the beanie and the scarf, yanks the jumper up off Zayn's body (clucking disapprovingly when he finds that Zayn's wearing nothing under it while admiring all that skin and tattoos and  _damn_ ). Zayn has the sense to snatch his own socks and shoes off his feet before Liam is shoving him towards the bathroom.

"Hot shower, now," says Liam, holding up a hand when Zayn tries to argue. "Talking later."

Liam stands outside the door as it clicks shut, waiting until he hears the water start to run. "There'll be clothes for you in my room," he calls through the door, not waiting to hear Zayn's thanks.

After setting out the clothes, Liam heads into the kitchen to heat something up. He has a ton of leftovers from the brunch thing, so he pulls out a plastic container of creamy tomato soup and pops it into the microwave to heat up.

He's putting a frying pan on the stove with some butter for a grilled cheese when something chokes him up. He recognizes it as joy a few seconds later because  _Zayn_ is  _here_. With Liam. In his apartment.

Liam narrowly avoids burning the cheese sandwich, caught up as he is in his own head. He slides it onto a plate and ladles the hot soup into a bowl. Liam sets it on the counter and waits for Zayn to return. When the water in the shower eventually shuts off, Liam's stomach becomes very well acquainted with his feet.

Zayn returns dressed in sweats a few sizes too big and a shirt he's drowning in. It makes Liam's heart clench. He looks like he's about to launch himself at Liam, the hunger in his face making Liam's dick twitch, but Liam holds up a hand.

"Not until after you've eaten," he says in his best stern voice, one he usually reserves for Louis.

Zayn pouts but listens, sitting at the counter and gobbling down the grilled cheese and tomato soup. It gives Liam time to look him over.

Zayn's so beautiful it makes Liam's bones ache. His face is clean shaven, honey skin smooth and slightly flushed from the shower. He's all cheekbones and a sharp jaw, amber eyes staring just as intently at Liam as Liam is at him. His hair is much longer since the last time Liam had seen him, the tips grazing his shoulders and some loose strands tickling his cheeks. And Zayn's hands, God, does Liam adore his hands. Slender fingers with shadows of charcoal and paint still staining their creases, clever fingers that know their way around a chisel, a paint brush, a tongue, a lube slicked hole . . .

The memories of those hands on his body stain Liam's cheeks pink, and he watches Zayn's pupils swallow his irises as he takes Liam in. 

Zayn finishes off his food and rises, deposits his dishes carefully in the sink and washes them meticulously.

When the dishes find their way to the dish rack, Zayn fists a hand in his shirt and pulls him in, burying his nose in Liam's neck.

"Hello, pretty angel," says Zayn. Suddenly Liam's out in the cold on a different stretch of road, a gorgeous boy staring up at him blearily.

Liam wraps Zayn up tight. "Hello, pretty boy bleeding in my arms " Liam replies, chuckling. "Though you're not bleeding now, I hope."

Zayn sighs. "No. Just cold and a little tired."

Liam pulls back and looks Zayn in the eyes, searching for something to say. "Thought the airports were closed?"

"Like I'd let that stop me," says Zayn with a snort. He kisses the tip of Liam's nose.

"Then how'd you get here?" asks Liam. He struggles to keep his train of thought when Zayn licks his upper lip.

"Took the train," he replies, mouthing along Liam's jaw.

"Why are you a-all wet?" stutters Liam. He moans when Zayn worries at the junction of Liam's neck and shoulder with his teeth.

"Cab got stuck in traffic. Took too long, so I paid him and walked the rest of the way," he says softly. Zayn licks a wet path up Liam's neck. "That answer enough for you, babe?"

Liam nods and catches Zayn's chin between his fingers. They're so close in height Liam just has to lean in and tilt his head and _oh_.

Oh, how much he's missed kissing his boy.

Zayn tastes like tomato and butter, his lips soft and a little chapped and perfect. His tongue traces the shape of Liam's lips, samples the whiskey still sitting on Liam's tongue.

Liam fists a hand in Zayn's hair and pulls his head back, licking and nipping down his neck to suck a sweet bruise next to the indent at the base of his throat. Zayn groans and drags Liam in by the hips, grinding his clothed cock against Liam's thigh. Liam's own dick, achingly hard and leaving a small patch of wet fabric at the tip, hardens further and Liam bites back the urge to drag both their sweats down and have at it right then and there.

Zayn saves him by licking the lobe of Liam's ear. "Bedroom, bedroom," Zayn chants, hands gripping Liam's biceps tightly.

And Liam, being a gentleman, scoops Zayn into his arms and obliges.

 

*****

 

Liam wakes up slowly the next morning, body sore and achy and boneless. He reaches out across the bed and finds nothing but empty sheets, and for a second he panics. Then Liam hears movement in the living room and smiles lazily to himself.

His bladder alerts him that staying in bed is not an option, so it's with a sigh that he unwraps himself from his sheets and slips on someone's underwear.

There's clothes everywhere, even the cliché boxers-hanging-from-the-ceiling-fan thing. Liam leans down and picks up the now empty bottle of lube from the ground (it had been half full the night before) and tosses it in the trash.

He walks into the bathroom and studies himself in the mirror.

Liam's missed waking up like this, decorated with hickeys and bite marks and scratches, lips kiss swollen and looking thoroughly debauched. He presses at one particularly dark mark at his hip and suppresses a moan at the pleasure pain it brings.

He uses the bathroom and exits, walking into the parlor to find Zayn sitting on the couch. He's fiddling with something in his hands.

"Morning," says Liam with a bright smile. It fades to a frown when Zayn doesn't respond. "Zayn? Love, what's the matter?"

Zayn looks up and smiles wanly at him. Instead of saying anything, he simply pats the cushions beside him. Liam complies and walks around the couch to sit down. He places a tentative hand on Zayn's knee.

He seems to draw strength from the contact, sitting up straighter and looking Liam in the eye with a fierce determination. Zayn covers Liam's hand with his own while keeping whatever he has in the other one firmly hidden.

"I'm going to say some things now, Liam, and I'd like for you to wait until the end to say anything, alright?"

Liam nods and for an agonizingly numb second, he thinks Zayn is going to break up with him. That this is their last goodbye. Until Zayn starts to talk and Liam's heart swells ten times too big for his rib cage.

"Liam, you are the joy of my heart and the light of my life. You've weathered rough seas and stormy skies with me. You've brought so much more happiness and love and laughter into my life that I literally cannot remember a time before you. You are without a doubt the most loving, caring, genuine person I've ever had the honor of knowing, and I love you for all that you are." Zayn's eyes shine with sincerity and earnestness. "We've been together for only a few months now, but they've been the best months of my life. You've been my best mate, my rock and my home, for the last two years, and I regret not realizing sooner how much I love and adore you, how dear you are to me and just how much I need you to be a permanent fixture in my life."

"Zayn, I-"

Zayn leans forward and presses a kiss to Liam's mouth. Liam feels Zayn let go of the hand he's been holding, and when Liam opens his eyes, there's a tiny black box sitting in the palm of Zayn's hand. It's open, and sitting on the black satin is a ring.

It's simple, made of some kind of black-gray metal and polished to a star-like shine. It's the most perfect thing Liam's ever seen in his life, besides Zayn's smile and his warmth and his everything.

"Is this what you were working on?" Liam asks in a hushed voice.

Zayn nods and shifts to kneel in front of Liam. It doesn't matter that he's wearing Liam's rattiest sweats and his hair is standing in a thousand different directions. It doesn't matter that they still both smell like sex, that the empty spaces they've both been sporting for each other have barely had time to be filled yet. What matters is the hope in Zayn's eyes and the flushed anticipation sitting in Liam's chest.

"Liam James Payne," Zayn intones, his voice turning Liam's name into a reverent blessing, a beloved prayer, "You are the love of my life, and the man I'll love in whatever comes after life. Will you marry me?"

Liam leans forward to press his forehead to Zayn's. "Zayn Javadd Malik," he says with tears dripping on his shirt. "I will. I do."

Zayn slides the ring on his finger (of course it fits like a part of his hand he never knew he was missing) and surges up to kiss him.

"Merry Christmas, Liam," says Zayn tenderly. "I love you."

"Merry Christmas, Zayn. I love you more," says Liam. His words don't burn in his throat anymore. Now they feel like love, like home. Like Zayn.

**Author's Note:**

> In one scene, there's a car accident that results in a pile up on a main highway that Liam and his squad are called to. Niall has a panic attack because he finds a young child that's very badly injured, and Liam talks him through it. While Liam is talking, he mentions Zayn being injured at one point in time in a similar accident to the one they responded to. If any of these might be a trigger for you, please be careful.
> 
> You can find me under the same name on Tumblr, if you'd like to come and chat!


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